


Rythmes du Soir

by GreenQueenofClubs



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Andy is not actually present in this one, F/F, F/M, M/M, and the none Book of Nile pairings are super background, but shes not dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26239696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenQueenofClubs/pseuds/GreenQueenofClubs
Summary: How often, how long could a man endeavor to earn love she had been trying to throw at his face for the better part of a decade?
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman
Comments: 33
Kudos: 302





	Rythmes du Soir

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from an Emile Nelligan poem, one of the best French Canadian poet of all times.

“Booker, you’re on the right, go get Nicky back before he gets himself in _more_ trouble.” Nile snapped, striding forward. The loud shouts and gunshots covered any sound their footsteps might have made, but she didn’t need to look to know Booker had jumped to obey even before she was done speaking. That left her with only Quynh watching her six. There was no point in trying to send _her_ to fetch their missing teammates.

“Nile.”  
  
Nile ducked instinctively at the hissed warning, and one of Quynh’s bullets whizzed less than an inch off her ear, striking a black clad form that had just slid out of a corner. Nile let her momentum propel her forward, rolling to her knees just in time to head-shot another guard running out in front of her, probably hoping to exploit their distraction.

Nile didn’t spare him a second glance. Quynh would finish him if necessary.

No metallic hiss behind him. He had already been dead. Guilt and pride bloomed from her guts, and Nile gave herself a second to breath them out before clearing the next corner.

Five corner later, Nile and Quynh reached the door of the compound they’d been fighting through.

“They’re late.” Quynh whispered, brows furrowed, eyes hard. She wouldn’t go running back deep into the building, not without Nile. And she wasn’t going to let Nile go back.

What if Joe had really been in danger? Surely the gunshots they’d heard had been a result of his distraction working as intended, nothing more? The guards they’d met hadn’t managed to shoot either her or Quynh even once, Joe would have danced trapezes around any of them.

Yet Nicky had taken off running at the slightest hint of worry in Nile’s stance.

Nile sighed, rolling her shoulders. Maybe she should have assigned Booker to be the distraction. He didn’t have Joe’s flair, but she wouldn’t have had to worry about anyone’s over-protectiveness.

Booker would always come back to her.

Footsteps. Quynh smoothly dropped to one knee in front of Nile, ready to shoot and bolt forward if more guards appeared. Squaring her stance, raising her rifle to her eye, Nile evened her breathing.

Nicky and Joe appeared first, Joe’s arm around Nicky’s shoulder as he limped forward, his left feet hanging at a visibly painful angle. Otherwise, he looked fine, nary a drop of blood on his clothes.

She was going to have _words_ with Nicky about panicking and abandoning the mission plan over barely more than a twisted ankle.

Booker closed the group, making one last sweep of the corridor they had come from before joining them. Rising to her feet just in time to punch Nicky _slightly_ too hard on the shoulder, Quynh slunk out of the door, scouting ahead of them.

Nile spared one last look for Booker, who nodded with a sardonic smirk, before pushing Nicky and Joe in the outside air.

The air was crisp with the Southern Canadian sunrise for the uneventful trek back to their car. They’d made sure to clear out external personnel prior to entering the labyrinthine research facility, in case they needed a speedy evacuation. Thankfully they had finished their business before the morning shift was due to arrive.

Nile slid in the driver’s seat, turning on the engine as Joe dropped himself by her side, rolling his ankle to test his newly healed foot. He shot her an apologetic look as Booker and Nicky settled in the backseat, Quynh bracketed in the middle by virtue of being the only small person on the team.

With half a shrug for Joe – as far as she knew, _he_ had done his job in an exemplary fashion – Nile stepped on the gas, tearing away back into the forest. She wanted to be back on more populated roads before the police started showing to investigate the pile of dead bodies they had left behind.

They were a little over an hour out of Montreal, and she drove in silence, happy to let Joe, Quynh and Booker fill the silence with a debate on the merit of various methods of book binding, most of which had gone out of use long before sliced bread had been invented.

Their rented safe-house was on the South Shore of the St-Laurent River, close enough to a small scale airfield and to the USA border that they could disappear quickly enough if they needed to. Nile had considered setting up on the island itself, to loose herself in the energy of a large city, but Copley and Booker had warned against it, the latter muttering something about the “ _foutus ponts”_.

“If you want Nicky to feel really bad,” Quynh whispered as they entered the house together, “I know a recipe for an 11th Century Genoan pesto that he absolutely hates.”

Nile cast her a sidelong glance, Quynh’s mouth quirked up in a mischievous smile.

“Get me a grocery list, just in case.” She whispered back.

Quynh’s eyes shone bright as she dumped her bag carelessly on the living room couch, moving to the back porch to call Andy. Nile would do the same later, to give a fuller report, but Quynh was usually the one to make the first call to say they’d finished the job and that of course Nile was in top shape, really, who did Andy think Quynh was?

“Go take a shower.” Nile said tiredly. She didn’t need to turn around to see Nicky’s mouth snapping shut, or his big contrite eyes. Better to have him and Joe go through their post-mission ritual before she started scolding. A woman could only be so stern when facing two grown men clutching at each other.

Finally, she heard the door close behind her, the latch turning. Booker walked up to her, bumping her shoulder with his. Before she even realized it, her head had dropped to his shoulder, taking a deep breath. He smelled clean enough, not even a trace of iron. Had they all managed to not take an injury, outside of Joe?

“Still got that flask close?”

Booker snorted, bringing his left hand to the joint of her shoulder and neck, steady and warm. It was a joke, an old one. Booker hadn’t carried his flask since before he had rejoined the team. Quynh had been the opposite of an enabler in the months they had spent traveling together.

“I can always pop to the _d_ _é_ _panneur_ and grab a few _Labatt Bleue_.” Booker offered, the amused distaste twisting his words.

“Only if you take Quynh to film your fight with the cashier.”

Booker groaned, and Nile poked his ribs for good measure. Watching Sébastien Le Livre, the frenchiest man on this side of the Atlantic argue with French Canadians who had _opinions_ about French-French people had been an unexpected bonus to their Québec mission, but one Nile was eager to exploit for as long as she could.

“ _C’est pas ma faute qu’il_ _a_ _des opinions_ _de merde_ _sur les vins rouges!_ ” Booker protested, humoring her, his hand starting to slide away from her neck.

Nile leaned into the vanishing touch without even thinking about it. He froze, eyes jumping back to her, suddenly burning. She stopped breathing. Her skin was too tight, and there was a burning spot on the back of her neck where his fingers had been splayed.

Maybe this time.

Maybe if she leaned in.

Maybe if she said the right words that didn’t spook him.

Maybe if she drowned herself deep enough in his eyes.

The water in the upstairs shower turned off, and Booker startled, spinning around to the kitchen without another word.

Again.

Fucking again.

Nile sighed, the fatigue her anticipation had managed to sweep aside rushing back in. Trudging up the stairs, she found Booker already elbow deep in whipping up breakfast for the team. Banana chocolate crêpes, her favorite.

Of course, her favorite.

How often, how long could a man endeavor to earn love she had been trying to throw at his face for the better part of a decade?

“Nile, Andy says she knows where Nicky keeps his third favorite sword!” Quynh called from the patio.

* * *

Their last evening in Québec was a pleasant one. Nicky had been assigned to cooking them a feast as penance for ‘misbehaving’ during the mission. Nile and Joe had managed to drag the rest of their crotchety family into a dance-off, and Quynh had sung for them, happy and clear and free. The language that burst from her lips was probably long dead, but she wasn’t, and tonight that was something they could all celebrate, even Booker.

Quynh had retired not long after that, followed by Joe and Nicky, who hugged the living daily lights out of Nile before they retreated to the basement bedroom they’d been assigned.

Better soundproofing underground.

Nile gave Booker a few minutes to make a polite escape before scooting to sit beside him on the garden’s bench. Before he could make excuses, shy away, or talk both of them out of this, she laid her head on his shoulder.

He stiffened for a second, for many seconds, for _too many_ seconds, before relaxing into her touch. It felt like surrender.

“I’m thinking about starting that social work degree we discussed next semester.” Nile said, looking up at the few stars bright enough to be visible in the night sky.

“Still want to enroll at UNAM?” Booker asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“Yeah. My Spanish could use some work, and none of you dinosaur are any fucking help.”

“You already know French and Italian, what more do you need from us?” Booker laughed, jostling his shoulder gently.

_So much more._

“There’s more than twice as many-” Nile

“Twice as many Spanish speakers as French speakers, Booker! I want to learn languages that are useful, not only the really sexy ones.” He finished for her, in a terrible imitation of her tone. She rolled her eyes, hoping her could feel it.

“Most people agree that Spanish is a very sexy language.”

“But it is not _Le Language de L’Amour_ , now is it?” Booker replied in an exaggerated sultry voice that still stroke straight to her core.

With his attitude, neither was French, as far as Nile was concerned.

“I’ve got enough romancing lessons from Joe and Nicky, I don’t need to be able to flirt in another language, I need to be able to ask where the bathroom is in most South American countries.” Nile groused. “You know, a useful language.”

“It’s hardly my fault Spain was so much better at colonizing than France.” Booker grumbled.

“Not sure that’s your best argument, buddy. Especially not in Québec.”

Booker laughed, throwing his head back, but wisely didn’t try to dig himself out his hole. Nile was willing to let it slide, to let the silence blanket them, closing her eyes. He was warm and sturdy under her head.

Solid, always. Even on the days when his grief still tried to drag him back under the surf, she only needed to reach out to find his shoulder ready to steady her when she felt out of her depth.

Ever since Quynh had decided to join back up with them, when she was done shedding her rage piece by piece walking from one end of the world to the other, when she had dragged Booker behind her, refusing to be parted from him.

Refusing that any of them would be alone. Not when they could help it.

Just as Quynh had immediately slipped into her role as Andy’s bodyguard, just as Joe and Nicky would always look out for each other, Nile had suddenly found Booker at her back. Watching, guarding, supporting her. A safety she didn’t need, but one that let her breathe easier through missions. When Andy had started to relinquish leadership to Nile more and more, Booker had been the first to jump to her commands.

Even after Andy had stopped accompanying them in the field, and Quynh’s unflinching guard had been transferred seamlessly to Nile, Booker stayed there. An extension of her arm.

Booker was hers.

She knew. She had known for years. She had known when he got himself decapitated by a megalomaniacal trust-fund manager after trying to spare her a few bullets. She had known when he had thrown himself in between her and Joe the first time one of her decisions had gotten Nicky captured, despite the very fragile peace the two men had been dancing around at the time.

She knew every time he’d picked up new paints just as she was running out, or when a necklace she’d been eyeing appeared on her bedside table.

He’d been hers long before she’d been sure she loved him. Oh, he had always been very easy on the eyes, from the first moment she’d met him in Goussaintville. And she had grown to like him, like his dry humor and his incredibly niche opinions over 18 th  century literature during his exile, when all they had were phone calls and postcards.

But love? She’d had to be sure. Sure she loved _him,_ not his devotion to her. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of them, and she wasn’t sure he could have survived the heartbreak.

She couldn’t have born to have been the one to break him all over again.

Maybe it had been the evening on a beach in South Africa, when they’d been laughing at Nicky and Quynh’s antics with bows. Maybe it had been on the quiet morning in Ho Chi Minh City where she had managed to rise early enough on his birthday to cook him a breakfast fit for a king, and he had looked as if he might cry. Or maybe it was the time after a long mission apart, _she’d_ been the one to grab him and spin him around the airport, and he’d laughed in surprised delight.

But now, she knew. But now she loved him. She loved him deep in her bones. She loved him enough to be patient for over ten years.

The torso under her cheek her shifted. With a sigh she relented and straightened up, ready to let him make his excuses and retire for another lonely night.

She hadn’t expected for him to turn towards her. From the way his eyes popped open as they found themselves nose to nose, he hadn’t either.

This close, even in the dark, she could see his pupil blow wider in a fraction of a second. A jolt ran from her toes to her teeth. She could almost feel the air between them, their shared breath. He was still, not as a hunted rabbit for once, but as if in a trance. As if she had charmed him.

She certainly found herself unable to look away from him.

“Booker.” She exhaled, fingers balling into a fist with the effort not to reach and clutch at him.

“Nile, I-” His voice broke halfway through, and he didn’t seem to notice, eyes flicking from her eyes to her lips to her eyes again.

Had she gotten closer? Maybe _he_ had. But he was still so far away. She felt like he could crawl under her skin and he would still be too far.

She leaned forward slowly. He didn’t move, still captive of her gaze.

Maybe this time.

Maybe if she leaned in…

She was half a dream away from his lips when he ripped himself away from her, leaving her to kiss the not-quite-sob he left behind. One of his hands fluttered to her cheek and held her still just long enough to kiss her forehead.

“Good night, Nile.”

The door of the porch slid softly behind him, but it sounded like thunder in the night.

* * *

Nile tossed over for the 27 th  time since she saw the clock on her bedside tip over midnight. Every time she managed to doze off into sleep, she’d be greeted by Booker’s burning hands one her waist, with his mouth dragging molten lava down her neck, by-

She startled awake again, eyes flashing open in her dark room. If Quynh had any blunter ears, she might have given up and gotten herself off hours ago, but it was unlikely improve her mood in any way, not with the object all her frustrations a measly wall away.

Finally giving up, Nile threw her covers off. Maybe if she got herself a glass of water and a walk around the garden she’d convince her brain to cut her a break.

Rubbing her eyes, she was halfway down the stairs before she noticed she wasn’t alone. There was a figure on the living room couch, hunched over, head in their hands. Yet, the curl of his slumped shoulders was unmistakable.

Nile’s shoulders tightened, anger shooting from her spine to her fist, to her lips, to her feet. How dare he be as miserable as her when he was the one always running away. In five strides she was standing in front of him.

He startled, too lost in his own thoughts to notice her approach.

That’s funny, she didn’t think she could surprise Booker anymore.

“How long are you going to keep up that dance?” In the dark, she forgot why she’d been careful.

“Nile, I-”

Good, he wasn’t trying to deny his idiocy.

“How long must I wait for you, Booker. How much longer will you need to get out of you own head?” She asked, too tired to be merciful.

“Nile, I’m-”  
  
“If you say you’re not good for me, Booker, I swear to god.” Nile wasn’t sure what she was threatening, wasn’t sure what punishment she could enact on Booker that wouldn’t be just as painful for herself.

“I would ruin you.” Booker rasped. There were thorns in his throat, shredding his voice so it bled in her ears.

She grabbed his chin, tilting his head up. He didn’t resist, and she wondered how much of her he could see, dark skin in the dark night.

Then again, Booker had always seen too much of her.

“Do you think I’m so small that a single man could break me?” She said, keeping her voice even. “Even you?”

He flinched in her hand, but didn’t try to look away.

“I want you, Sébastien Le Livre. I love you, Sébastien Le Livre. If _you_ do not want me, tell me and I’ll never bring it up again. But you don’t get to choose for me.”  
  
Tightening her fingers on his chin, she leaned forward until, despite the absence of light, he had no choice but be aware of her face inches away from his.

“And don’t you dare use me to torture yourself.” She hissed.

Booker’s mouth opened and closed several times against her palm. She felt the exact moment he gave up, his chin dropping heavily in her hand. With a resigned sigh, she let him go, taking a step back.

“For a man that was ready to give up everything out of loneliness, you’re still pretty shitty at taking love when it’s been offered to you on a fucking platter, for over ten years.”

Nile took another, heavier step back. Maybe that glass of water would help her swallow the bile that had risen to her throat.

An arm clamped around her waist, and suddenly her entire side was engulfed in fire. She barely had time to gasp before his face was pushed roughly against hers. The darkness threw off his aim, his lips first finding her cheek. Without missing a beat, he tilted his head in the other direction to catch her mouth.

He was burning, flattening her against him. Someone groaned, maybe both of them. Nile felt it deep in her chest, and she moaned in echo. Booker took the opportunity to push his tongue in her mouth.

He kissed her like a desperate man. Booker seemed to be trying to pour every once of his desire, of his passion, of his devotion for her in a single kiss, perhaps hoping it would scare her off.

Stupid man.

One arm wrapped around his broad shoulders, she grabbed his hair with her other hand, tugging until he pulled back with a whine. She could feel his arms loosen around her, probably still expecting her too run, but she simply took a quick breath before diving back in, famished for him.

Booker melted against her, loosing all his terrified tension at once as she endeavored to thoroughly explore his mouth, chasing the taste of him. She was vaguely aware of being walked backward until her back hit the wall, Booker cradling her neck to make sure she didn’t hit her head.

Oh Booker.

She broke apart when her lungs wouldn’t let her go a single instant more. There was a moonbeam streaming across both there faces. Nile could get drunk on the dazed look in his eyes as he also found himself unable to look away from her.

“You’re mine.” She growled, panting.

“Yes.” He murmured, a surrender and a plea all at once.

“ _Et je suis_ _à_ _toi, pour aussi longtemps que tu voudras de moi._ ” She vowed, tightening her grip on his hair when she felt him jump.

“ _Pour toujours, alors._ ” Booker sounded wrecked even before she got to put her hands on him properly.

“ _Pour toujours._ ” Nile’s lips curled around her hungry smile, and Booker surged forward to catch her mouth against.

Her fingers started to wander up and down his neck, dipping teasingly under the collar of his soft sleep shirt. Booker growled, and grabbed at the hem of her own baggy shirt.

“No,” she mumbled, unwilling to move away from him, “bedroom.”

“Too far.” He answered, clutching at her bare back. Goosebumps raced up her spine.

She wrenched her face away, gulping for air. Booker simply took the opportunity to start biting and licking along her jaw and her neck.

“I am not getting interrupted by Nicky before I get your head between my legs.”

He froze for a beat, and tore himself away with a strangled growl. The air felt frozen after his skin, yet she burned too bright to be cooled off. He probably would have swooped her in his arms if she hadn’t been faster, grabbing his shirt to drag him to her room.

The second the door closed behind him, he was tugging her shirt over her head. Nile laughed breathlessly at his eagerness, his wide eyes and his hair flopping over his forehead. In heartbeats, he had her sitting on the edge of her bed, slipping her shorts off. Without needing any encouragements, she hooked both her legs over his delicious shoulders, locking her ankles on his back.

The first touch of his lips on hers hit her like lightning, and she had to slap her hand on her mouth to stifle the scream threatening to escape her. Booker frowned up at her. Nile could only nod helplessly towards Quynh’s room. His brows furrowed deeper, but then he seemed to channel his frustration on making her see a cosmos worth of stars. First nosing her clit while he spread her folds with his clever tongue, then sucking on it while he fingered her to her climax. The scratch of his beard against the sensitive skin of her thighs was maddening. She’d take a century of beard burn to feel that very day of her life. She had a brief moment of compassion for Joe who had been trying to convince Nicky to grow his beard out for years.

She had to grab a pillow to smother her cries as she came, bucking against his mouth. He remained in place, kissing all over her inner thighs and her pubis, until she let her legs drop to the ground, clutching at his shirt to bring him up.

Her sluggish hands struggled to take his shirt off while he slipped his sweatpants off. He moved to join her on the bed, but she stopped him with a soft hand on his hip. The moonlight painted all of him – and there was a lot of him- silver.

Nile wanted a minute to look at him.

Booker tended to downplay his strength, his bulk, but now there was no way to hide his power. His wide torso, his strong arms, his thick thighs. His jutting cock, already wet at the tip. Yet she could feel him trembling under her fingers, like a young man he hadn’t been in centuries.

With a smile, she finally scooted back until she was laying on the pillows. Booker followed her easily, climbing after her until he was kneeling between her legs, one hand propped next to her head, but not touching her.

“I wanted to see your face when you came.” He grumbled good-naturedly. Nile bit her lips to muffle her laugh, reaching up to push a lock of hair away from his face.

“Make proper love to me, Sébastien, and you still might.” She slowly ran her foot from his calf to his ass, gently pushing him towards her.

“Are you sure-” At her stern, disapproving look, he rushed to finish, “that you want me like this?”

He gave a ridiculous like wiggle to indicate he meant their position and she couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can ride you into oblivion tomorrow, love, I’m more than happy to let you do the work tonight.”

A large infectious smile slowly overtook his face.

“ _Oui madame._ ”

He leaned down, stealing all the breath away from her lungs with a searing kiss. Nile melted under him, hands running up and down his back, grabbing a good handful of his ass at every opportunity. Booker resisted every pressure to lower himself against her, instead taking to trailing kisses down her neck and towards her breasts.

“You’ve already made me come, love, you don’t need to do this.” She groaned, tugging gently at his hair again.

He crawled back up willingly, but only long enough to whisper in her ear.

“I’m sorry Miss Freeman, but I was tasked with ‘Making Proper Love To You’.” He nibbled softly at her hear lobe. “And I don’t intend to disappoint.”

He was gone again, latching his lips to her breasts. She let out a surprised squeak, before pushing his hair back from his eyes. He sucked at her nipple, his right hand moving to squeeze her other tit, looking up at her when she scratched at his scalp with a single nail.

“Never been super sensitive there, Book.” She said with an apologetic shrug. He stopped for a second before nodding, smacking an appreciative kiss on both her breasts before pushing himself lower.

Booker learned quickly that unlike her chest, the faintest touch on her flanks would make her sigh, and spent minutes laving them with attention, making her twist and moan under him. He avoided her mound on his way down, but had great pleasure in nipping at the tender skin of her thigh. With a wink, he took care to rub his beard all the way down to her knee, laughing when she poked him in the rib with her toes in retaliation.

Coming back up was a faster process, even as he took care to revisit every spot that had made her shiver.

But this time he didn’t hold himself a few inches away. Instead he slowly laid down his bulk over her, until they were face to face, pressed together from their chests to their feet.

More importantly, Nile could feel his probably-painfully-hard cock rubbing against her folds, and she was liable to be driven mad any moment.

“Booker, if you aren’t inside me in five seconds, I s-” He swooped down to catch her lips, drinking her moans in as he finally, blessedly, lined himself and started sliding in. Finally, she had him. He had her. He was under he skin in all the ways he could. He was almost close enough to satisfy the craving clawing at her belly

He was better than anything she had felt before. His cock was the perfect girth, stretching her perfectly yet tender as he filled her deeper and deeper. She could breath better than she ever had, as if she had never tasted real air until they were one.

Nile dug her nails into his back, overwhelmed at the sensation. Booker rounded his back, pushing back against her hands, and she was more than happy to indulge him, clawing at the muscles rippling under his skin.

Anything to ground herself, to not fall apart right away.

She wanted to drag this on. She wanted to be like this forever. She wanted to be one with him for the rest of their existences, however many centuries they were given.

Booker seemed to feel the same, pushing until the hilt and stopping. They were still for an eternity, breathing each other’s air. Nile could feel his thunderous heartbeats under her own ribs.

“Nile...”

“Yes.”

His first thrust was shallow, and still she sobbed, pushing her face into his neck. His second rocked the bed and it was all she could do to clutch at him and meet his hips.

The third unmade her and she threw her head back in a silent shout. She could feel him starring at her, drinking her in, and yet no part of her wished to hide. Let him see. He was hers, and she was his.

His hips started pistoning into her deeper and deeper, pushing his face into her neck. He was panting as he pushed a hand between them to rub at her clitoris. Nile tried to bat his hands away.

“No, not yet, I want-”

“I won’t last, _mon ange_. I need you with me.” He implored her, sliding her clit between two of his fingers. “ _S’il-te-pla_ _î_ _t_ , Nile.”

His thrust were more and more erratic, and Nile gave in, nodding against the side of his head. He groaned, clutching at her hip with his free hand.

“Then look at me.”

Booker shuddered, trying and failing to pull away from her.

“Sébastien, I want to see your face.” She asked again. Without interrupting his desperate rolls into her, he pushed his elbow by her head, lifting himself above her. The sudden cold against her front was barely noticed as she stared up at him, his parted lips swollen red, his cheeks streaked with tears, his gorgeous blue eyes.

“There you are, my love.” She whispered.

His eyes widened his shock before slamming shut and he whined deep in his chest. Nile felt her ass lift off the bed under the force of his last push and- and-- and he was coming. Time seemed to freeze as he trembles against her, her entire world suddenly nothing more than the smell of his sweat, the taste of his skin on her tongue, the feel of him filling her with his come.

The feel of his fingers still rubbing his clitoris, desperate to bring her over the edge with him. Her Booker. Her Sébastien.

Hers. Finally.

Her eyes rolled back and her world went white.

Either seconds or millenniums later, Nile managed to regain feeling in her body, fingers still tingling. Booker was on his side, pressed against her, watching her.

“Hey handsome.” She whispered. “Come here often?”

He burst out laughing, quickly stuffing his face in the pillow. If Quynh had miraculously slept through all of that, there was no need to wake her _now._ She took the moment to shift around, taking stock. He had slipped out of her when she had been out of it, but she could still feel his come slowly dripping out of her. The rest of her was already on the tail-end of pleasantly sore, and her healing had erased the bruises Booker had probably left on her hips, the bear burns on her thighs.

She wouldn’t have minded bearing his marks for a few days, but there was nothing for it. They’d simply have to lay them on each other over and over again.

“I guess that depends entirely on you, miss.” Booker finally answered resettling himself against her.

“I’ll see if I can fit you in my schedule, then.” She answered, then sighed as she tried to push herself upright. Booker slung an arm around her middle, grunting in protest.

“If you want me to feel _sexy_ tomorrow morning, Book, I’ll do wash up a bit.”

“You’re always sexy.” Booker mumbled, pouting at her.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She laughed, grabbing her robe to walk to the bathroom.

When she got back, Booker had already dozed off. She took a moment to rinse him off with the warm wet clothe she’d brought back, enjoying the view a little longer. As soon as she laid back down, his arm was back around her middle, his head laying on her chest.

Sleep finally came, in between their two heartbeats.

* * *

A door farther in the corridor opened and closed, drawing Nile out of her comfortable sleep. She didn’t hear Quynh walk past her own room, but she never expected to. Instead, she stretched as well as she could with Booker still draped over her. In the early morning light, she could finally see him properly, and she brought soft fingers to trace the edge of his cheekbone.

Unsurprisingly, he shifted into the touch. He was as light a sleeper as any of them, and had probably been awoken at the same time she did.

He also seemed much more determined to go back to sleep.

“Booker.” Nile whispered. He hummed in both acknowledgment and protest, nuzzling into the space between her breasts.

“Book.” She pushed a hand in his hair. He grunted louder, squeezing her middle.

“Quynh is gone, love. For at least half an hour.” Nile pointed out with a slowly expanding grin as one of his eyes suddenly popped open, trained on her face.

“Quynh’s out of the house.” She said again, gently pushing him off of her and on his back. “Joe and Nicky are in the basement.”

As smoothly as her still sleep-heavy limbs would allow, she threw her leg over him, settling on his waist. He was fully awake now, blue eyes intent and glimmering.

“Got any idea what we should get up to?” She asked, shimmying just enough for his eyes to flutter. His half-hard morning wood was already stirring against her ass.

“ _Tu as l’air d’avoir d_ _é_ _j_ _à_ _plein de bonnes id_ _é_ _es.”_ Booker mumbled, his hands dragging up her thighs to settle on her hips.

“Hmmm, I do.” She agreed, leaning down so she could kiss his mouth, the soft skin between his eyes, his eyelids. She moved to whisper in his ear. “Bet you I can make you scream my name.”

“That might be the safest bet you’ve ever made, mon trésor.”

She laughed, and got to work repaying last night’s favor. She learned that contrary to hers, Booker’s nipple were delightfully sensitive. Nibbling, licking and pinching at them until there were red and puffy, she drank in every one of Booker’s whines as he pushed against her mouth. Minutes later, she decided to have pity on him, and followed the trail of pale hair down to his groin. Despite his enticing hip rolls, she avoided his fully erect cock, bypassing it in favor of laving his thighs with attention.

There’d be plenty of time to get fully acquainted with it when she didn’t have other plans for him.

“Nile, please, please.” Booker was mumbling above her as she reached his calf, and she decided to have pity on him. She scooted back up until she was straddling him again, his cock trapped between his belly and her pubis. He threw his head back, groaning loudly. His hands fluttered around before clutching at the sheets. Nile felt a jolt of love thump in her chest when she realized he was making sure he wouldn’t take the lead in any way.

Adorable of him to think that would happen even if he tried.

He _was_ positively delectable like this, really. Hair still sleep mussed, a flush running from his cheeks all the way down his chest, nipples still miraculously swollen from her care. She wanted to devour him.

Another time, she reminded herself. Right now, she’d have to settle for making him forget any names he’d ever had.

“Ready, gorgeous?” She asked, gently tugging his hands away from the sheets and on her waist.

“Yes.”

Booker never took his eyes away from hers, not when she raised to her knees to line him up with her folds, not when she started sinking down, not even when her own fluttered shut as she took him down to the hilt.

Not moving.

Not yet.

Not when she could finally breath again.

When she was finally able to open her eyes again, she reached out and cupped his jaw.

“Sébastien, my love, you might actually ruin any other men for me.”

And with that she rode.

She did make him scream her name, long before the end. Which he took as a challenge, releasing his hold on her waist to push his strong fingers against her clit as she desperately chased her climax, making her cry and whine.

His other hand sought the one she had braced against his chest for balance and tangled their fingers.

She came clutching at him, shouting and laughing.

Booker tugged her down and swallowed her moans as he pushed up into her one last time before following her over the edge.

Nile flopped down on his chest, unwilling to move for anything less than the apocalypse, wrapping one of Booker’s arms around herself before he could get any bad ideas.

He didn’t. In fact, he simply grabbed the still damp cloth she’d brought from the bathroom earlier in the night, pressing a kiss against her brow.

After the most basic of cleanups, they were sleeping again.

* * *

It wasn’t the sun creeping higher and higher in the sky, or the tantalizing smells rising from the kitchen that finally coaxed Nile and Booker out of the room, but the need to take a shower.

Nile was first while Booker went to gather a fresh set of clothes from his own room.

Which meant she was the first one in the kitchen.

Alone.

Three sets of eyes turned to her as she entered. Quynh was smiling behind her tea cup, Nicky was appraising her, and Joe was so casual it circled back to extremely suspicious.

“Good night sleep?” Nicky asked evenly, not looking at the potatoes he was pan-frying.

“Pretty good, yeah.” Nile answered, strolling to the coffee maker. Joe barely covered his snort with a polite cough. Nile ignored him in favor of caffeine.

“I’m sorry we haven’t got a _French Press_ for you.” Joe said breezily. “Now that you’ve got the taste for it.”

Nile rolled her eyes and turned around, leaning on the counter.

“Oh you know, once you get a good French Roast, you don’t need fancy tricks to enjoy it.” Nile replied, taking a dainty sip of her cup.

The three of them burst out laughing, and Nicky wrapped her into a hug before pushing her to the stool next to Quynh’s.

“Now, habibti, I have read books about this.” Joe said, letting Nicky take over the breakfast preparations.

“Yusuf Al-Kaysani, don’t you dare-” Nile warned, pushing slowly away from the counter in horror.

“When a young woman becomes sexually active, it’s important that she think of protecting herself.”  
  
“I can’t get pregnant, Joe-”  
  
“There are multiple diseases that can be transmitted through the exchange of fluids-”  
  
“We _can’t get sick!”_  
  
“-and who knows where Frenchmen dropped their pants become they developed taste-”

“Yusuf, you are as ill-equipped to teach a woman how to chase her pleasure as a bull is to fly.” Quynh interrupted, putting her cup down softly.

Joe and Quynh stared at each other for long second, neither-

“Ah Booker, would you please come to help me.” Nicky called out, and all turned to the kitchen’s door. Booker stood there, pined by Nicky’s stare like a deer in headlights.

Nile knew that look. It was the look Nicky had given Andy just before he decisively won the 2037 Prank War with nothing but a piece of fish line, a pack of hot-dogs and green acrylic paint. This was the look of a man who had a plan, and would not be diverted.

“Well, if my advice is undesired by this charming young lady,” Joe said, bringing Nile’s hand to his mouth in a playful baise-main, “perhaps the gentleman will be more amenable.”

“Joe!” Nile hissed in warning, but he had already wrapped an arm around Booker’s shoulders and was dragging the poor man over to Nicky.

“ _Buongiorno, frattelino._ ” Nicky’s voice dropped into a whisper, and once she heard the word “arousal”, Nile felt no desire to eavesdrop.

Booker could deal with them. Penance for making her wait a decade.

Quynh reached over and squeezed her wrist, eyes pleased and serene. Nile smiled in thanks, offering her cup for a toast, her friend complying with a giggle.

“I want to buy a ukulele.” Quynh said, putting her cup down.

Nile could only snort at the non-sequitur, staring at the other woman.

“What?”

“My guitar is too big to travel with me.” Quynh mused, tapping her fingers on her cup. “Maybe a ukulele would be better. Do you play ukulele, Nile?”

“Nah, never got that far. You already play guitar better than I even did, I’m not sure I can help you with ukulele.”

“Now, now, Booker, don’t be like that, don’t you want to please your lover?” Joe exclaimed, grabbing back the shoulder of her lover, who had managed to escape their clutches for a second.

He sent her a pleading look before Joe was able to reel him back securely between him and Nicky.

“Yes, Booker, _I Modi_ had interesting points that you need to learn.” Nicky added, pale eyes twinkling dangerously.

“I’m not going to read your weird Renaissance porn.” Booker groused, trying to push away again, but Nicky and Joe clasped arms around his shoulders, blocking his exit.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Nile Freeman.” Quynh answered her, completely ignoring the men’s antics. “You have an ear for beauty.”

Maybe more than an ear, Nile couldn’t help but think, letting the sounds of her team bickering wash over her as she stared fondly at Booker’s ass.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> (Can you tell that I don't often get to flew my french muscles in my writing?)  
> Foutus ponts : Damned bridges  
> dépanneur : Corner Store  
> Labatt Bleue: Cheap Quebec beer, probably the equivalent of a Bud Light  
> C’est pas ma faute qu’il a des opinions de merde sur les vins rouges! : It's not my fault he has shitty red wine opinions!  
> Le Language de L’Amour: The Language of Love, a common moniker for french  
> Et je suis à toi, pour aussi longtemps que tu voudras de moi : And I am yours, for as long as you'll want me.  
> Pour toujours, alors : Forever, then  
> Pour toujours : Forever  
> Oui madame: Yes ma'am  
> Mon ange: My angel  
> S’il-te-plaît: Please  
> Tu as l’air d’avoir déjà plein de bonnes idées : You already seem to have plenty of good ideas  
> Mon trésor: My treasure  
> Buongiorno, frattelino: Good morning, little brother


End file.
